The Mysterious Case of White
by Mollz33
Summary: GerIta & Spamano. Better summary is inside. When Italy and Germany get into a fight, Germany tells Italy to go home. But what happens when Italy ignores the on-coming traffic?
1. Chapter 1

So I got this idea while I was in the shower listening to Rolling Girl by Hatsune Miku… And this is my first Hetalia fanfic so please don't rape me if it sucks. (- _ -) Anyway, I'll probably put some Hetaoni references in here. Because Hetaoni is terrifyingly brilliant.

**Title: **The Mysterious Case of White

**Rating: **T… for now

**Warnings: **Swearing, near death situations

**Pairings:** GerIta and Spamano

Summary: When Italy and Germany get into a fight, Germany tells Italy to go home. Italy calls Romano while he's at Spain's and Romano goes home to make sure Italy is ok. The two Italian's go for a walk when Italy notices a kitty in the middle of the road and runs out to pick him up. But what happens when Italy ignores the on-coming traffic?

**Chapter One: The Words We Fail To Say**

éローリンガールû

~~~~**Ludwig**~~~~

"God dammit, Feliciano! How did you manage to mess this up!" Germany shouted at the Italian. Said Italian was sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor covered from head to toe in flour. Bits and pieces of cake batter matted into his hair and splattered on the kitchen walls, counters, and floor. The mixing bowl still spinning in the blender from not being put in right. The carton of eggs was on the floor upside down, half of the eggs broken and oozing on the floor tiles.

Italy looked up at Germany with big, wet eyes. Tears were lining up his eyes and threatened to spill over. Deep down a part of Germany felt a chip in his heart. He grabbed a towel and kneeled down to wipe the flour and cake batter from the Italian's face.

"Feliciano…why don't you spend the night at your house tonight? I have an important meeting tomorrow morning and I can't be distracted by you."

"B-but…o-oh, alr-right… I guess I'll just b-be going then…" Feliciano hung his head and walked past Germany without a second glance. Germany frowned and turned to watch the Italian walk out the front door, slowly starting to fill up with guilt. 'Maybe I was too hard on him…'

Germany was brought out of his thoughts at the sound of the mixing bowl spinning out of the blender and crashing onto the floor, spurting Ludwig with cake batter.

"…God dammit…"

~~~~~**Feli**~~~~~

Italy wiped another tear from cheek as he entered the front hall of the house he shared with his brother in Italy. Or at least, they did share before Romano started dating Spain and Italy started spending more time at Germany's. Walking further into the house, Italy felt somewhat surprised to feel so foreign in his own home. He stopped at the closet at the end of the main hallway to hang up his jacket that was surprisingly not covered in baking goods.

Italy continued walking into the kitchen and sat down at the table. The house was dark, for being only a few hours into the day. Italy stared at the kitchen table as he debated what to do next. This was the first time Germany had gotten so mad and actually threw him out of his house. Deep down. Italy understood why Germany did it. Sure, anyone would have gotten mad if they walked into their kitchen and found it covered in baking supplies. It was a normal reaction, right?

Right.

Germany will probably call or come get him as soon as he's done with his work and misses Italy.

…

…

CREAK

"EEPPPP!"

Italy jumped out of his seat and fell onto the kitchen tiles. He looked out the kitchen window and saw what looked like a boney long hand trying to break through the window. Italy paled and ran out of the kitchen, upstairs, and dove under his bed shaking. "F-f-fratello…."

Italy shakily pulled out his cell phone and dialed Romano.

RING

RING

RING

RING

RIN-

"Nghh… w-whatthe…. The hell doyou want?"

"F-fratellooo! I'm scared! Our house is so big and scary and there's a skeleton outside of the kitchen trying to come and get me and it's dark out so I can't see very well and I didn't stop to see but I think we may be all out of pasta and it's so scary in our house and it kinda chilly an-!"

"FELICIANO!" You could hear Romano twitching in annoyance through the phone. "Shut the fuck up and tell me again, SLOWLY, what in fucking hell you are talking about."

Italy, completely unaffected by Romano's colourful vocabulary, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Alright, so I came home because Germany threw me out and when I came home I sat in the kitchen but a skeleton started tapping on the window so I ran upstairs and now I'm hiding under the covers of our bed because I'm scared!" …So much for slowing down…..

Romano sighed, "Ok… what do you want me to do?"

"COME HOME PLEASE!" Italy shouted into the phone, oblivious to the fact that it was midnight where Romano was in Spain.

"Gah!" Romano flinched and pulled the phone away from his ear. "Alright alright! I'll be there soon."

"Gratzie fratello."

"Yeah yeah… just… give me a minute, okay?"

"Sure thing fratello. Ti amo."

You cold hear the blush Romano tried to hide. (It can happen?) "Yea… you too." they both hung up. Italy curled into the covers tightly and made himself more comfortable. He was lulled to sleep from the warm blankets and the sense of relief of knowing his fratello would be there soon to protect him.

~~~~~End Chapter One~~~~

Well? Advice? Comments? Suggestions? I have an idea where I'm going to take this but if anyone wants to see anything specific, like a character cameo or stuff like that, feel free to say so.


	2. Chapter 2

~~~~Chapter Two~~~~

~~~~Lovi~~~~

So… being woken up in the middle of the night by my idiot of a brother and having him yell in my ear to come home was not what I was expecting. I mean sure, he does do some pretty strange things. And I do mean really, really strange things, like that one time when he decided to wear a dress because 'it looked pretty' … but still, this was a first. Especially the fact that he called from our house in Italy. I don't necessarily like it, but he spends most of his time over in Germany with that potato bastard. Although I'm not really one to talk. I almost never come home, now that I'm living with Antonio in Spagna. So I can't really blame him for feeling strange in our house.

…Not that I'll ever tell him that…

Dammit.

So I finally arrived at our house in Italy around 4 in the morning. The moment I stepped into the front door I realized why Feliciano felt so out of place. I hadn't been here in a while, just like him, and it felt….odd? I mean, sure, it is our house and all…but it's been so long since I've actually been here. Wow. I actually don't remember half of this stuff.

…Has our couch always been white?

That's a pretty plant over in the corner…

…That pillow kinda looks like a cat…

Huh, I must have been staying at Spain's longer than I thought. I better take a look around and see if I remember everything again.

Well, after taking a tour of my own house to get reaccustomed, I figured I might as well go look for my idiot of a brother that made me come here in the first place.

"Oi! Feliciano! Where the fuck are you?" I shouted. I don't care if it's 4 in the morning and our neighbors are asleep. I was woken up from my peaceful sleeping/ secretly-because-I'd-never-actually-admit-it-out-loud cuddling time with Spain in the middle of the fucking night by my idiot of a brother because he was scared.

…Fucking potato bastard.

I blame him. I knew you couldn't trust a potato sucking, German bastard. It's his damn fault for throwing out mio fratello in the middle of the fucking night and then making Feli call me to come save him from whatever the hell he said was scaring him. German bastard is going to get a rude wakeup call with a mafia hit man's gun to his forehead pretty soon.

But first I gotta find Feli. Let's see, where haven't I looked yet? Checked the kitchen, checked the living room, checked the bathroom, checked the patio, checked the wine cellar, checked the library…wait…have we always had a library? So the only place I haven't looked so far is

SNORE

…The bedroom. Of course! It's so obvious it's genius!

Naturally, I had to kick down the door. It's my bedroom, too! And on the bed was Feli asleep with his mouth slightly open and drool hanging out. Not what I was expecting. I tip-toed over quietly and leaned down to the level of his face and poked his cheek. No movement. He must really be tired. I guess I'll just let him sleep and- Wait a minute! I came all the way from Spain in the middle of the night for this idiot! How dare he sleep when I'm the one whose been up for 4 fucking hours! "FELICIANO!" I yelled-no, screamed into his ear. I felt rather smug as I watched him jump a foot out of bed and flail around like an electrocuted jellyfish on ecstasy.

…Because…I know…what…that…..looks like…..…Now…

Now I have a flailing fratello. "Feli! Shut up! It's me, Lovino for God's sakes!" I reached out and put my hands on his shoulders to force him to stop having a seizure. He stopped whipping his limbs around and stared up at me. "Ah! Fratello! You came home!" And before I could even allow my brain to think about moving, he glomped me. Not even on our warm, comfy, large bed either. No, he had to attack-hug me unto to the cold, hard, unforgiving and I'm-pretty-sure-that's-gonna-bruise-by-tomorrow wooden floor and god dammit that really hurt!

So for revenge I smacked him upside the head to get him to let go. Which he did… but then burst into tears and hugged me even tighter… "B-but fratello! I h-haven't seen y-you in so long!"

"Yeah, I know Feli. I've been busy. I'm sorry, alright? Just, just stop crying ok? You know how much I hate seeing you cry…" He sniffled a few times but just kept on crying. And knowing Feli, it could be a while before he stops. Normally when he gets like this I would just tell him to make pasta. But seeing as how neither of us have been home in while and it is like 5 in the morning now .

Oh god, he's still crying!

I sighed and started patting his back. "Feli, stop crying." I was rewarded with a loud wail. "Look, Feli, how about you and me go for a early morning walk around the city. Then we can talk and stuff." Another sniffle, but this time it sounded less wet. "D-do you think if w-we hurry, w-we'll get to see the sun rising?"

"Yeah, but only if we hurry." Finally, he stopped crying. "Get dressed and then we'll leave, okay?"

"Ve~! Sure thing! Ti amo Lovi~!" And there he goes with the attack-hugs. Y'know, he could really use them as a weapon.

So Lovi is kinda OOC in this one. I like to think that he doesn't swear as much around Feli because Feli acts like a kid most of the time. See, he's not that bad of an older brother :D


	3. Chapter 3

Alright… so a big thanks to FlyingHigh13 for pointing out that the chapters start going into italics halfway through. I didn't even realise that….(the corner of shame with you! :C )

The files on my computer don't do that but it looks like fan fiction doesn't put them back to normal after a word or phrase that I had in italics.….so I guess I won't be using italics anymore… :I

And I need to add a quick Germany in here somewhere….In case I didn't mention it earlier, Germany and Italy weren't dating yet in the first chapter. Spain and Romano were though.

Forewarning: This might be a short chapter…

_Hetalia!_

~~~~Feli~~~~

Ah! What a beautiful day! Just me and mi fratello! I'm so glad he came home to be with me. Now that he and big brother Spain are dating, I never get to see fratello anymore. Now that I think of it, I think this may be the first time fratello has been home in almost 2 years!

Hmmm…I hope he knows where we're going. We are in his half of Italy after all.

Either way, I'm just so happy the I get to spend time with him! I bet he's just as happy as I am!

~~~~Lovi~~~~

YAWN

I'm so god damn tired.

It's too fucking early for this.

Why the hell did I suggest we go for a walk?

Why couldn't I suggest that we go back to sleep and THEN go for a walk?

~~~~No One~~~~

"Ve~… fratello? Where are we going?" Italy asked as they walked down a mostly empty street in Rome. They only life around, other than them, were the shop keepers getting ready to open and the occasional mailmen. (Do they have mailmen in Italy? :\)

"Eh? Oh… I don't know. I didn't think that far ahead." Romano replied. In truth, Romano was still mentally assaulting himself for suggesting that they go for a walk when Romano was running on near no sleep. "What do you want to do?"

Italy opened his mouth to speak but Romano cut him off before he could speak, "And no pasta!" 'Awww… well there goes that plan,' Italy thought. 'Hmm… where do I want to go?' Italy pondered as they walked down the street, passing by lots of stores and the occasional gelado vendor. "I know! Lets go get some gelado! I haven't had any in so long because they don't make it in Germany and Doitsu doesn't let me eat it anyway because he says I eat it too fast and then I get sick-" Italy was rendered silence by a palm to his face. "Ok, ok. I get it. You haven't had gelato in a while. We'll go get some but we'll go the one on the other side of town, alright? Congelati Tratta's makes it the best."

Italy smiled brightly and stared at Romano, "sure thing fratello. Ve~ it must be really good if fratello wants to walk across town for it." Romano glanced over at Italy, not missing the questioning edge in Italy's voice and the you-want-to-go-there-for-some-special-reason-and-you-better-tell-me-why look.

Romano sighed, "ok look. The place we're going to is where Spain and I had our first date, alright?" His face was bright red by the end of his confession and if you really listened, you could hear Spain shouting from Spain 'Lovi~ you look just like a tomato! So cute~!'

Italy was a little shocked to hear Romano being so open but quickly bounced back and hugged Romano tightly. "Fratelloooo~! That's so sweet!" Romano stumbled a bit form Italy's weight but managed not to fall over. So he started to try to and push Italy off of him. "Gah! Feli! It's not that big of a deal! And you don't need to strangle me to death!" Italy reluctantly let go but still smiled wide. "But fratello! It is a big deal! Bedsides, I'm so happy that you and big brother Spain are so happy together!"

Romano looked over at Italy with blush dancing across his face. "Yeah, well…I do really love him, I guess. I mean, he does feed me tomatoes as often as possible so I really can't complain."

"Hehe~ I'm glad. I just wish Ludwig and I could be happy together like you and big brother Spain…" Italy sighed as they kept walking. Romano scoffed at the mention of the German. "I don't see why you like him so much, Feliciano. He's just a stupid potato bastard who is just going to end up hurting you. And isn't it his fault that we're here right now?" Italy looked down. "…Yeah…"

~~~~Feli~~~~

Ludwig…

I wonder what he's doing right now?

He probably doesn't even miss me. Which hurts… because I like him a lot. I wish Germany could see that. But he's so work focused that he can't even see how much I really truly care for him.

I do wish that I was lucky enough and brave enough to tell Germany how I feel.

~~~~Lovi~~~~

Aw shit…

I think I insulted him…by insulting that potato freak…

Who really IS a potato freak. I mean seriously! He probably loves potatoes even more than Ireland does! And even that's saying something because the only thing Ireland likes more than it's potatoes is whiskey.

…Then again, potato bastard and his brother both like to get drunk a lot…

…Oh my fucking god they must be related!

Poor Ireland. No wonder he drinks so much.

(Is Ireland ever shown in Hetalia?)

~~~~No One~~~~

The two Italies continued walking on their way to the gelado vendor in silence. Northern Italy was still lost in thought about what to do about Germany and his feelings for the larger country. This was a first for the small country and did not go unnoticed by Romano. "Hey, Felici?" Romano asked tentatively, which brought Italy out from his thoughts. He looked at Romano, "Ve~… yes fratello?" Italy noticed how uncomfortable Romano looked all of a sudden. "Why… exactly did potato bastard throw you out? I mean, he's put up with you for this long. What made him do this all of a sudden?"

Italy was taken aback by Romano's sudden forwardness. "Well… to be honest. I don't really know. I was trying to bake Doitsu a cake because he works so hard all the time and I knew that he really likes sweets, no matter how much he denies it, so I thought that it would be a good idea… but I forgot to watch what speed I put the mixer on…and I forgot to attach the mixing bowl so everything just sorta -exploded in his kitchen." Romano stared at his brother in complete shock, ' no wonder he threw him out. I would've murdered him if he did that to my kitchen.' "Oh! Please don't look at me like that, fratello! I was going to clean everything up! Really! But I slipped on the cake batter on the floor and then knocked the eggs off the counter so they broke all over and then Germany came in and started yelling at me and so I never got the chance to clean up!" Italy had tears starting to form in his eyes. Romano sighed and hesitantly wrapped his arm around Italy's shoulders. "Feliciano, you are an idiot and potato bastard over-reacted. What you did wasn't that big of a deal, alright? Just give him some space."

Italy absorbed Romano's words and let them run through his brain a few times before smiling. "Ok, Lovi~. So do you think that means me and Ludwig could still have a chance?" Now, of course Italy knows that asking such a question to his brother is stupid and is just asking for a insulting remark, but Italy also knows that his brother can actually be very considerate when he wants to be. "I guess… I don't see why you'd want to be with a potato bastard though." Italy laughed, knowing that Romano didn't insult Germany whole-heartedly.

"Meow~"

Suddenly, that sound caught Italy and Romano off guard and looked in the direction where the noise came from. They both turned an saw a white kitty sitting in the middle of the street. The cat looked at them and mowed again.

~~~~Lovi~~~~

What… the hell?

Doesn't that cat know enough to stay out of the road? It's going to get hit if it doesn't move soon. I'm kinda surprised that it hasn't been hit already.

Wait. What the-

"Feli! What are you doing! Get the fuck back here, dammit!" Why the fuck is he running out to the cat? It's a just a cat! "It's just a cat! Leave it!" But Italy kept running out to the cat, completely ignoring that oncoming heavy morning traffic.

"But fratello! I can't just let him stay here!" Italy called back, naïvishly unaware of the large tractor trailer speeding down the street in his direction.

"Feliciano! Leave the damn cat! You can't just-"

_BEEP BEEP!_

_SCREETCH!_

"FELICIANO!"

I'm surprised this was that long. I thought that this would've been so short….

Anyway: Dun Dun Dun! (dramatic background music)

OH NOES! What will happen next! :O


	4. Chapter 4

I'm so sorry for not updating sooner! I haven't forgotten about or stopped this story, I just have had so much going on for the past few weeks. And I probably won't have time to update this story until after regents week. I've decided that I want a 100 on my U.S. History regents, so I'm staying after school to study and I'm reviewing at home as well. So I won't be able to update for a while. It took me forever to finish with this chapter, but I want you guys to know: I AM CONTINUING THIS STORY. I just don't have time to update. I feel like I've said that a hundred times but I need to you guys to understand the situation: The Story Will Go On! (In a few weeks…)

Anyway, here's the re-written chapter 4. It's not perfect, but I hope that it's better than before.

~~~~The Beilschmidt House~~~~

It wasn't but a day after Germany and Italy's fight, if you could even call it that. Maybe an unfortunate turn of events between friends that lead to an absence of presence of one friend? On second thought, a miscommunication would be a better term instead. It wasn't as though Germany really wanted to throw Italy out of his house. He was just very stressed and allowed his distress to be taken out on Italy.

Not that that was any excuse.

After throwing Italy out, Germany proceeded to clean up his extremely messy kitchen. Which took longer than expected because somehow Italy had managed to cover nearly the entire kitchen in some sort of cooking material. Most of the mess was cake batter. However, Germany was able to uncover a few broken egg shells here and there. As well as the occasional flour spot and a few spilt drops of creame.

It wasn't until Germany had made sure that his kitchen was once again spotless that he left to gather his work for the meeting with his boss later that day. It was an important meeting, to say the least. At least once a year, Germany had to have a discussion with his boss on how Germany's economy has been doing, what the importation rate versus the exportation rate is currently reading. Nothing particularly interesting but it was necessary.

Luckily, the meeting went swimmingly, despite Germany being a little more distant than usual. He truly did feel bad for throwing Italy out of his house, knowing that Italy was only trying, in his own way, to help Germany. Even though half of the time, Italy's way of helping Germany usually lead to something catching on fire, drowning, running away, burned, kidnapped, destroyed, or pasta. But that's what makes Italy, _Italy. _And as annoying he may be sometimes, he really does mean well.

As much as Germany tries to deny it, he really cares about the fraile Italian man. Italy may be one of, if not Germany's only true friend. But Germany would still be lying to himself if he said that he didn't have any feelings for Italy. In truth, Ludwig was in love with Feliciano. Not as countries. Yes, Ludwig Beilschmidt was in love with Feliciano Vargas. There's really no point going around it. True, the german is shy when it comes to something as complicated as love, but after spending almost a century with the Italian, it was only a matter of time before love had blossomed.

So needless to say, Germany felt as though a rock had been dropped in his stomach and he had been drugged with depression pills. Feliciano is his only friend and his first love.

Who he had thrown out.

In the middle of the night.

During a storm.

It would be a miracle if Italy would ever look at him again. Which, undoubtedly, was plaguing the German's mind. Ever since he made it home from the meeting, all Germany could think about how he may have just ruined any chance with Italy.

This next section is going to be a bit crazy, so I apologize for any confusion. I don't know how to write Prussia in 3rd person without losing some of the details.

~~~~Preußen~~~~

Ah! What a beautiful day! The birds are singing, the sun is shining. The grass couldn't be greener! The world has graced today with healthy flowers! It seriously is an awesome day! Perfect for the awesome me!

So perfect, in fact, that I think I'll share this perfectly awesome day with West and Ita-chan. We can go for a walk in the park, eat some wurst, drink some beer, push West into the river and while I run off with Ita-chan so we can get married and run like hell when West chases after us…

Ja, today could be eine sehr, sehr guter Tag. (a very, very good day.)

Now, of course I was expecting to open the front door to West's house and find either:

A). West reading while Italy cooks pasta in the kitchen

B). West scolding Italy for making pasta in the kitchen

C). West working while Italy makes pasta in the kitchen

Or D). West eating pasta that Italy made for him in the kitchen

Really, when it came to Italy, there aren't to many options that won't include pasta. It's like a drug to him! Just, less toxic and more… pasta-y? Yeah, that sounds about right.

But anyway, as the awesome me was saying, when I opened the front door to West's house, I expected any one of the options A through D.

What I _wasn't_ expecting, was being hit in the face with said front door.

Then being trampled on by West.

…

What the Hell?

"Was zum Teufel?" Prussia spit out a patch of grass and stood up to confront Germany.

Who was starting to run to his Jeep.

Prussia, realizing he was being ignored, sprinted to Germany and stood in between him and the door of his Jeep.

"'Ey! West! What's going on? You just hit me in the face with the front door!"

"I don't have time to talk Bruder. I have to get to Italy as soon as possible!" I should've known it would be something to do with Italy. West made a move to shove me out of the way, but being the awesome me, I held my ground.

"Ok, so then where is he this time? Did Franny take him again?" He may be one of my best friends, but I wouldn't put it past the French pervert. He does have a strange obsession with the two Italies. Even though Romano is out of the question. Not even France is stupid enough to cross Antonio again. Seeing as how Franny still has the scar from when he tried to drug and grope Romano at the last Christmas party.

I'm pretty sure Antonio sharpened his battle axe before coming to the party.

… And hid it under his shirt or somethin'.

So I guess it's only natural that Franny would try and go after Ita-chan. I mean, it's not like West has finally realised that he loves Ita. Which, technically, means that Ita-chan is anyone's game. Although I am personally rooting for West. That way, Italy will move in with West and then I can see Ita-chan everyday! Which is awesome!

"_Was_? No! I have to go to the _country_ Italy! I made a huge mistake and I have to fix it before something awful happens!"

Something…awful? Is that why West is acting so… un-West?

He wouldn't get this worked up over something petty. He's had to save Italy practically everyday since World War II.

"West, what are you talking about? Is something wrong with Ita?"

"Yes! I mean- No! Maybe! I don't know! All I know is that I have to get to Italy as soon as possible! I made a big mistake and I have to fix things before it's too late!" I stood there awestruck. Never, had I thought that I would see West finally take the initiative. In all my years of raising and knowing West, I knew that one day, he would wake up and realize that there are some things more important than work. Looks, like the day has finally arrived.

The awesome me must help!

"Alright West, hop in the Jeep, and I'll have you in Italy before you can say bratwurst und sauerkraut!" West gave me a look of pure relief.

"Danke, Bruder." He gave me a small, but meaningful smile.

My bitty West really is growing up.

I should throw him a party.

…With lots of bier.

…At a strip club!

That would be so awesome…

…

But we really should get a move on.

"Du bist willkommen. Now chop chop!" I jumped in the driver's seat and turned on the vehicle. I waited until West shut the Jeep door before I sped off in the general direction of Italy.

But as soon we left the driveway, I had this creepy feeling of dread come over me. Which is not awesome.

I think West is right.

Something bad is going to happen.

~~~~No One~~~~

The two Germanics took off at full speed to the country Italy. Both of them plagued by a feeling of dread but both of them too afraid to say so out loud. The car ride south was unusually quiet with an atmosphere thick with unease.

When they arrived, they were met with a strange occurrence that didn't help with their dread-filled thoughts.

The Italian sky over the city of Milan was lit up with flashing colours of blue and red. It wasn't until they parked the car and stepped out that they heard the over-bearing sound of sirens that they both silently began to panic. They were maybe a block away from the commotion, but they could hear the shouts of panicked Italians and the shouting of commands, probably from the Italian medics or officials. So, the two Germans sped to find out what was going on, out of fear of what was causing the desertion of the normally busy city of Milan.

As the continued to the center of the action, they didn't fail to notice certain things that made their panic rise.

The shouting and sirens were getting louder.

There wasn't a single person in sight until they started to get closer to the scene of action.

The flashing lights from the emergency vehicles were becoming brighter.

Spain's red convertible was sloppily parked on the side of the road, just a few feet back from where the backs of pedestrians grouped together, more than likely where the huge event was, were. And if Spain was here in Italy, that meant the Romano was here in Italy. And if Spain and Romano were in _Northern Italy_, at the scene of an accident no less, then something must have happened to Veneziano.

Upon realising this, Germany began to feel heavy-headed but pressed forward.

Prussia sped up, now knowing that his best friend and his boyfriend were just up ahead. As much as Prussia didn't want to think about it, his bruder's injured, or worse, future boyfriend could be up ahead, as well.

Preview of next chapter

~~~~~~~~~~Scene of the Accident~~~~~~~~~~

The two Germans were only a few metres away when they heard a sound that made them freeze in their tracks.

"LOVINOOO! NO!"

Poll time! So I realised after I took down this chapter for repairs that I never wrote in or gave a clue as to who was screaming "Lovino! No!" at the end. Obviously, as the writer, I know who said this. However, my question, dear followers, is who do you think is screaming at the end? Is it someone who has already been mentioned? OR have I brought a new character to the table, like I did with Prussia?

Also, I have another question. As mentioned at the top, I've been busy as hell. One reason being that I had Sherburne Pageant of Bands. My question, is if any of my followers have either:

A). heard of

B). Played in

Or C). seen Sherburne Pageant of Bands.

It's a big event where I come from and my teachers have told me that A LOT of people have heard of Sherburne P of B. Not only that, but this year had a turn out of I think 2000 people, maybe more, I don't remember the actual number. So anyway, if you have either A, B, or C, leave a comment saying which one or ones and where you're from or what school you've played for. I'm rather curious. J


	5. Chapter 5

God dammit. Everyone who guessed who was yelling at the end of chapter 4 got it right…..

It was Spain.

I am no good at mysteries!

I recommend you listen Hero by Skillet while you read this. Specifically: go to youtube and type in

**Hero - A Hetalia AMV**

…**.._X.X.X_…..**

1800 seconds earlier

"FELICIANOO!"

'GOD NO! PLEASE! NO! NO! NO NO NO! GOD YOU CAN'T TAKE HIM AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE! NOT HIM!'

It happened faster than a blink of the eye.

And yet it was all in slow-motion.

Everyone saw it.

But no one actually did.

It started with a cat. Just an innocent cat that decided to wander into traffic.

And all it took was an innocent young man.

No one knew who he really was.

No one knew of his importance to their country.

Everyone heard the skidding of tires.

Lovino watched with his eyes huge and filled to the brim with panic. His baby brother was about to be flattened in front of him. It was like Feliciano hadn't even bothered to look where he was running. Who runs into traffic anyway? Surely everyone knows that running into traffic can and most times, kill you, right? But instead of cursing out, like Lovino would be expected to do, he stood there frozen in his shoes. The raw fear kept him where he stood while panic was causing his heart to pump so hard that Lovino could hear the blood pounding in his ears. Lovino couldn't think of a single word to say as his innocent little brother, who would never hurt another creature, who cries at the thought of killing a fly, was about to die in front of him

What could he do? What could _he_ do? There had to be something more than just standing there dumbstruck. Yell at the truck to stop? That doesn't really work well when your words are caught in your throat. Throw something at the truck? Not when your frozen to the ground. …Push Feli out of the way…?

Then, before anyone could blink-

Before the truck could stop-

Before the world could turn-

Without a second thought-

Lovino broke out of his stupor and took off at full-fledged Italian speed to Feliciano, who, at the moment, was paralyzed with fear in the middle of the road. The whole world was in slow-motion. Feliciano didn't see the tractor trailer coming at full speed in his direction until the last possible second. He only saw the little helpless kitty cat stuck in the middle of the road and acted without thinking. But now, as he sits in the middle of the street, staring into the headlights of a huge tractor trailer, he is nothing but scared. Truly, utterly, completely scared.

It doesn't take a genious to know when you're about to die.

Feliciano used every drop of his very soul to break eye contact with the truck and shifted so the small white kitty in his arms was faced away, Feliciano's back facing the truck.

He expected pain…

He felt force…

He expected to _die._

But he didn't feel pain. In fact, if he didn't know any better, Feliciano would've sworn that he had been pushed. Although Feliciano isn't exactly the brightest nation in Europe, he did know that being hit by a truck should hurt more than just a _push._

Feli dared to open one eye to figure out what was going on.

What he met was something out of a horror movie, a living nightmare, and a thousand hell-bent Russian curses combined.

Feli's hunch had been right: he _had_ been pushed. He had been pushed out of the way of the oncoming truck.

By _Lovino_. Lovino had pushed Feliciano out of the way. Lovino had saved his life-

-By trading places.

Where Feliciano had previously been and _should_ be, was Lovino.

Laying on the ground, Feliciano could see the blood and broken figure of his fratello. Lovino was lying on his back, his chest looked slightly dipped in and his left leg looked broken. Lovino had one arm draped over his chest while the other was sprawled up above his head his head. There was blood on Lovino's clothes and face. He had a deep gash starting on his forehead and disappeared up in his hairline. There was blood lightly dripping out of the corner of Lovino's mouth and the long scrap down his arm was bleeding and already starting to bruise from the force of the hit. The side of his white t-shirt trailing down to his dark blue denim jeans was beginning to stain heavily with crimson liquid.

Italy was frozen on the spot at the sight of his bleeding and broken fratello. His body felt heavy and glued to the road. He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream so loud that the Heavens would hear, but he couldn't. His voice was lost to the wind. The normally warm Italian summer air seemed to drop 40 degrees. Lovino was just lying there… broken…blood pooling around him. What was Feliciano supposed to do? What _could _he do? Go see if he was alright? Check his pulse? Call for an ambulance? His brother just saved his life…by pushing him out of the way and taking his place. His fratello was just lying there and Feliciano could do nothing but stare, frozen where he lay. The world around Feliciano went unnoticed. Feli didn't notice the people beginning to form a circle around the scene. He didn't notice the truck that caused the damage skid to a halt and flip over from the abrupt stop. He failed to notice the growing number of flashing lights and the rising sound of sirens in the distance. The only thing Feliciano could see was his fratello. Feliciano wanted to do something-anything! Anything that would help Lovino. To take away his pain. To make his cuts heal and his blood stop pouring out. Feli would even go back in time to stop himself from calling Lovino and having him drive to Italy to stay with him. Anything that would've -could've prevented this from happening.

Slowly, Feliciano rose so that he was sitting up, his eyes never once breaking contact with Lovino. In the back of Feliciano's mind, he dimly noted the pain in his left leg. Feliciano began to slowly crawl towards Lovino. "Fra….Fratello…?" Feli shyly and uncertainly called to Lovino but he didn't move. As Feli came closer, he noticed how Lovino's chest was barely rising and falling. The amount of blood surrounding Lovino was disturbing. In the dark crimson liquid, Feliciano could see his shocked reflection. "…Lovino…" Feli whispered. What else could he say? Thoughts raced through Italy's head as he stared at his brother's pale face. _'Romano is a country. It's not as if he could die from something as simple as a truck from the human world. Humans die from car accidents. Countries can't. If they could, then every country would have been long dead from the many battles over the centuries. So, obviously, Romano isn't going to die. There's just no way. He's going to be fine. He's going to wake up any second and laugh at me for thinking he was dead or yell at me for being in the middle of the road. Yeah, any second now…' _But Lovino still wasn't moving.

"Heh...he he…" Feliciano's vision was beginning to blur from tears that were now freely flowing down his cheeks. Gently, he placed his hand on Lovino's cheek and lightly stroked away the blood from the side of Lovino's face with his thumb. A few drops of his tears fell onto Lovino's cheek. "Fratello…it's time to wake up now…hehe…" But still Lovino failed to make motion. The pounding of his fear-drugged heart pounded through Feliciano's ears as tears began to run down his cheeks heavily. "…Silly fratello…won't you wake up?…." Still nothing.

At seeing Romano so lifeless, Italy allowed his tears to pour out. He buried his head into Romano's cleaner shoulder and sobbed. His body shook as he cried his heart out. If it wasn't for the short, shallow breaths that Romano took, Feliciano would've feared that he now was an only (theoretical) child.

It wasn't until Feli felt a hand on his shoulder that he lifted his head. The hand belonged to a tall emergency worker. The man had a sympathetic look on his face as he noticed the tears of Feliciano. One look at the two boys on the ground and the man could tell that they were brothers. He may not know who they are, but the sight of the two made the man want to tear up, despite having seen almost every type of accident. Nothing hurts worse than seeing families grieve. And these two were still so young! _'Why must God be so cruel sometimes?' _the man dimly asked as he saw the raw pain and anguish in the young boys eyes from crying over his brother.

It was at that moment that a slight moan escaped from Lovino. Feliciano whipped his head back around to face Lovino with a shocked and relieved expression. "L-Lovino?" The broken Italian whimpered as tears began to roll down his face. "Feli-Feliciano…it hurts so much…" Lovino cried so quietly that Feliciano almost missed it. Feliciano grabbed Lovi's hand and squeezed it in a comforting manner. "Fratello, it's going to be okay._ You're _going to be okay." It would have been a more meaningful speech if Feliciano hadn't choked back a sob at the end. Luckily, Lovino's brain wasn't working up to speed from the blood loss, so he didn't catch Feliciano's voice break. Instead, Lovino closed his eyes and let out a shaky whimper, "…I want… Spain…" "No! Lovino! Don't close your eyes! Stay with me! Please!" Feliciano cried. Lovino just chuckled weakly, "…hehe… bastard… you can't ge'… rid of me…not like…" he couldn't finish his sentence because he started to cough as best as he could. However, when he coughed, blood was coughed up, too. It wasn't a lot of blood, but enough to make someone nervous. Normally, Feliciano would become squeamish at the sight of so much blood, but this was his fratello. No way in Hell would he pass out now. Not when his fratello needed him.

It was then that Feliciano actually noticed the crowd around him and Lovino. Or rather, he noticed the people as they were pushed and shoved in opposites ways as someone was shouting in rapid and frantic Spanish and running to the opening. The only words Feliciano could make out were "where," "mi pequeño tomate," and "I'll fucking strangle you." It didn't take Feliciano too long to out who it was. Mainly, because seconds after a rather large tourist (probably from America) was pushed out of the way and nearly lost his balance, a very loud and panicked "LOVINO!" was heard by everyone in the area. Sure enough, the only other person on the planet who called Lovino by his human name, was standing out in the open.

Spain.

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><p>I'm sorry it's taken me so, sooo long to update this. I try to write a little each day, but with this chapter, I couldn't find the right end for the chapter, because this chapter is (maybe?) the climax if not the most important chapter. Plus the fact that my friend forced me to make a Tumblr and now I spend most of my day on their with my Spamano covered dashboard. If you guys want to follow me on Tumblr, let me know. I'd love to get to know you more.<p>

This was really hard to write, surprisingly. I wanted this to be tear-jerking and I don't know if I succeeded in that. : I wasn't crying or sad when I wrote this. But I was listening to sad-ish music.

The reason why Spain was there so quickly, was because as Lovi's lover, he has the ability to sense when he's in danger. So he rushed there at the speed of country to find his little tomato…. don't question tomato logic….


	6. Chapter 6

So a big thanks go out to SuperNekofan! Because without her, this chapter would've been 20 times harder to write and therefore finish! Seriously, I had the hardest time trying to write Spain's emotions during this chapter. I had this whole scene play out in my head, but when it came to writing it down-it just POOFED into thin air. Which tends to happen a lot.

I could give you guys a whole paragraph as to why I'm so slow in updating, but I won't. Bottom line, I've been really lazy.

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><p>There are very few things that can truly scare and strike fear into Spain. After his mighty days on the sea during his pirate days, Spain had seen just about every gruesome and horrible occurrence that one could think of. He'd seen the eyes of his enemy plucked right out of their head and then forced to eat them, he'd seen prisoners have their limbs slowly cut off one by one. He had seen countless rapes, both men and women, and only smirked at the scenes in front of him. People drowning, people burning, people stabbed threw the heart and cast aside like an unclean rodent. Oh yes, Spain had seen it all, but none of those things ever really scared him. Sure, there was the fear of mutiny on the sea and the occasional violent meeting with Arthur, but as the young, powerful personification of Spain, they were only tiny fears. And mutiny was really more of an annoyance, rather than a fear. You'd be annoyed, too, if your crew decided to throw you over board and sail away, leaving you to have to swim back to Spain by yourself. At least he was able to slay the Kraken a while back ago, that way he didn't have to worry about that detour.<p>

But Spain had never truly experienced fear until his little apprentice came to live with him. Suddenly, Spain's mindset went from careless, violent, and controlling, to worrying, caring, and loving. Romano had managed to do what thousands of others died trying: tame the monster that was known as Spain. He had, of course, done this without even trying, but that was Romano for you: doing the impossible without even trying. It was Romano, who taught Spain the importance of afternoon naps. And unwillingly, it was Romano who taught Spain that hugs can be the greatest thing in the world when you really need one. So, it's easy to say, that it was Romano who had shaped Spain into the person he is today.

Therefore, it would be correct to say, that Spain would protect and care for Romano with immortal life. But, as everyone knows, there are some things in life that cannot be avoided. Jumping in front of an oncoming truck to save your brother is one of those things.

Earlier that morning, Spain woke up with an off feeling in the pit of his stomach. It felt as if he had a growing lump of something-really-bad-is-going-to-happen and it only proceeded to get worse as the seconds ticked on the clock on his tomate's side of the bed. He had only been up for about an hour before he decided that he needed to see his lover, in fear and desperation of something having happened to him. Call it a lover's intuition, if you will.

So, in a heartbeat, Spain made a mad dash to his red convertible and sped off at speeds that would make an Italian nervous to Milan. Somehow, he managed not to attract the attention of law officials on his cross country escapade. Not that it would've mattered anyway. Spain wouldn't have stopped even if someone had been foolish enough to pursue him.

At the speed he was going, it only took Spain about 4 hours to reach the outer area of Milan. Which wasn't half bad, but to Spain, it felt like a four day long trip. The first thing he noticed upon entering the city, was that the city seemed empty. If that wasn't any reason to be put at a state of unease, the glow of flashing lights in the distant certainly was. As Spain drove closer, he could hear the unmistakable screeches of sirens ringing through the air. Spain didn't make it much farther before he noticed the large group of people in the distant. Without a second thought, Spain sloppily parked his convertible on the side of the street and took off sprinting to the crowd.

He started to hear the voices of the crowd say "oh! I think he's dead!"

"That poor brother! He looks so heartbroken!"

"Oh no, I think they're twins!"

As soon as Spain heard the comment about 'twins,' he felt his stomach plunge and his heart began pounding in overdrive. The horrible feeling of unease exploded and Spain slammed through the crowd, shoving and pushing anyone out of his way. He was shouting out words but couldn't actually hear what he was saying and when he finally broke through the crowd, he froze.

His heart stopped at the scene in front of him. Laying in the middle of the street, was Lovino, lying on his back, his chest slightly dipped in and his left leg looked broken. He had one arm draped over his chest while the other was sprawled up above his head his head. There was blood on Lovino's clothes and face. He had a deep gash starting on his forehead and disappeared up in his hairline. There was a small smidgen of blood lightly dripping out of the corner of Lovino's mouth and the long scrap down his arm was bleeding and already a bluish-black colour. The side of his white t-shirt trailing down to his dark blue denim jeans was staining heavily with crimson liquid. Leaning over his broken love, was Feliciano. His eyes were wide with shock, his left arm was bleeding, and he seemed to be favouring one leg over the other. Tears overflowed from Feliciano's brown eyes and he tried to hold back a sob when he saw Spain.

Spain wasn't even in control of his movements. He slowly walked towards the two Italians with his eyes glued on Lovino with a poker face. The mighty Spanish empire had seen death, destruction, and torture but nothing had ever seemed so horrible to the Spaniard than the sight in front of him. He approached his lover, who was drifting in and out of consciousness, and his sobbing brother and fell to his knees next to Lovino. A loud pained scream rang through the city as Spain could not hold back is anguish. Tears poured down his face as sobs racked through his body. He wanted to look away from the scene in front of him. He wanted to close his eyes and wake up from this horrible nightmare. He so desperately wanted to wake up and hug and love his Lovi laying asleep next to him. To love him and appreciate him and never let him leave the house for the next hundred years. But sadly, none of that would happen. The sight in front of Spain was not a nightmare and would by no means disappear just by closing his eyes and 'waking up.'

Spain reluctantly looked up and stared directly into Feliciano's eyes. "Veneziano," he took a shuddering breath, "how did this happen?" instantly, Feliciano tensed up and avoided Spain's gaze. "Veneziano!" Spain snapped, "what the fuck happened!" Italy flinched but slowly met Spain's glare. "H-he… there was a t-truck…and h-he…" Italy took a deep breath. "H-he pushed me out of t-the way…" Italy shuddered from the intense look Spain was now giving him. "Please Spain! It wasn't my fault! I didn't ask him to do it! I would never want fratello to get hurt! Please Spain! You have to believe me-!" "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!" Italy flinched away, accidentally letting go of Lovino's hand. "¡Eres tonto, excusa horrible para un hermano! Obtener el infierno fuera de él!" The raw, angered look in Spain's eyes told Feliciano that he would be in a worse situation than Lovino if he didn't do what Spain said. Reluctantly, Italy gave a pained look to Lovino and slowly rose. He didn't want to leave him, but deep down, Spain was right. Lovino was currently fighting for his life and it was all because of himself. What a horrible excuse for a brother.

An emergency worker came over to Feliciano and put a hand on Feli's shoulder. He looked up at the workers face with a questioning face. "Signore, we need to get you cleaned up. Come this way per favore." Feliciano hesitantly looked back at Lovino and Antonio but reluctantly walked away with the man.

"Sp…Spain…" Hearing Lovino's small voice brought Spain out of his raged mood. He looked down softly at Lovino. "Lovi! Mi amor, ¿qué es?" Spain heard Lovino take a shallow breath, which was probably deep for him. "It…It wasn't… his fault…I did it…to protect…Feliciano…"

Spain grabbed Lovino's, now, free hand and clasped it gently but firmly. Lovino had noticed Spain when he was only a few feet away, due to his eye sight being foggy from blood loss. When Spain had become clear enough for Lovino to identify, he smiled. It wasn't an evil smile or even a smirk, it was a genuine smile that Lovino saved only for Spain. He was relieved that Spain was with him. The sight broke Spain's already shattering heart. He brought the hand up to his chest and with a pained expression, tried to smile at Lovino. But it wasn't easy when he was trying not to show how truly scared he was in front of Lovino. Spain let go of Lovino's hand and carefully slid it under Lovino's upper back. He gently lifted Lovino to his chest so that Lovino's head was supported on Spain's shoulder.

"Sp…Spain…" 'Oh mi Dios, he can barely breathe!' Spain sadly noted at hearing Lovino's breathy voice. A trail of blood slipped out of the corner of Lovino's mouth. Spain used his other hand that wasn't holding Lovi to his chest to wipe the blood trail away and caressed his cheek so gently, afraid that Lovino would break. Spain took a deep shuttering breath, "Sí…s-sí Lovi, …I'm right h-h-here."

"S-Spain…Anto…nio…I…I love… love you…Please…Antonio…please… don't leave… don't leave my s-side…" Lovino's voice trailed off as he slipped into unconsciousness. His eyes slowly drifted shut and his head gently fell into Spain's chest.

"I love you, too Lovi! I love you, I love you! Oh Lovi, I love you! Please! Please, just, please, hold on! I won't leave our side! Never! I promise! Just_ please _hold on!" Spain cried, desperately trying not to jostle Lovino too much in his arms. He wanted nothing more than to wake up from this nightmare. Why did life have to be so cruel? Why couldn't this all be a part of Spain's imagination? Just some sick and twisted imagination that proves that he really should stop eating churros before bed.

Spain was only vaguely aware of the rest of the world around him. He could hear voices, people yelling, sirens, but none of them registered in his head. Well, until he noticed numbly that one voice seemed to becoming louder. He tried to ignore this persistent voice but it just grew louder and more urgent. Spain focused in on the closest person to him, which happened to be an emergency worker. Alarms went off in Spain's head as noticed this man inching closer and closer to his precious Romano laying in his arms.

"Signore, we need-a to get him to the ospedale. He could be-a bleeding out as we speak-a." The previous emergency worker had come back with a large medical bag strapped over his shoulder and kneeled down next to Lovino. He made a move to put an O2sat monitor on one of Lovino's fingers but quickly found his hand being crushed in Spain's. Spain looked up, tears pouring down his cheeks while glaring flaming red daggers at the man. The worker could practically feel the heated rage. "You will NOT touch him." Spain spoke so vehemently that acid could've burned off of his words. The worker was shocked but still pressed on. "Signore, he could _die!" _The hand encasing the workers tightened painfully but the worker could feel the hand tremble. _'The love of his life may be dying, he's just scared.'_ "Per favore, you can come with him. We won't separate you two. Prometto." He felt the Spaniard loosen his grip on wrist and knew that he had made a breakthrough. The worker slowly removed his hand and looked the Spaniard straight in the eye. "I WILL take care-a of him, but I need-a you to hold-a onto his hand and to-a NOT let go. He needs-a you, I understand that. But you have-a to trust me to do my job-a, or I can't help-a him!" Spain stared at the man painfully. A part of him, the rational part, knew that this man was right and that he should listen to him. However, the passionate and caring part of him wanted nothing more than to tell the man off. "Signore, per favore! You need-a to trust me."

Spain looked down at his lovers unconscious face. He wiped away a blood soaked strand of hair from Lovino's face, no longer caring if his blood was getting on his clothes. Spain closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Fine. You may take him." Spain opened his eyes and looked into the worker's. "But he is NOT to be out of my sight. Not even for a second. ¿Entiendes?" The worker let out a sigh he wasn't aware he was holding, "Sì, capisco."

In a matter of minutes, the worker called over a few other workers to help lift Romano's body on to a gurney so they could quickly move to the hospital. Spain held tightly but gently onto Romano's hand as the workers place Romano into the back of the ambulance. Understandably, he was nervous. Spain kept repeating in his head 'nations can't die from mortal means, nations can't die form mortal means,' but the 'what ifs?' kept running through Spain's head. What if nations _can_ die from something mortal? What if God decides to turn his head away and allow Romano to die? Romano's always been a good catholic boy, aside from being gay and having sexual relations with a man, but surely God wouldn't allow his son to die because of that? Spain took out his cross from around his neck and held it in the hand that wasn't grasping Romano's. He began to pray to God to allow his love to stay alive and grow well again.

Just as the doors to the ambulance closed, Italy turned his head away from where he was sitting on the end of another ambulance. He lightly jumped off the back of the ambulance and began to slowly walk forward, not going far, but not entirely sure where he was going, either. He couldn't help but feel as though the whole event was completely his own fault. And it sure didn't help that Spain voiced, quite vehemently, Italy's fears and more shortly after Spain had arrived. Now, as he watched his brother fade from the distance between them, he felt a huge wave of guilt consume him. This guilt felt much more powerful than the guilt Spain had caused him. For once in his life, Italy didn't know what to do now. Normally, if someone he cared about was in the hospital, he would make them some pasta and visit them. Or, if someone was hurt, he'd hug them and comfort them. But this time, it was _his_ fault that Romano was hurt. And it was _his_ fault that Romano was on his way to the hospital.

So what was he supposed to do?

"ITA!"

Italy turned around rapidly, met with pain from his sore neck, and saw Prussia and Germany rushing over to him. Italy felt happy at seeing Prussia but saddened at seeing Germany: the man who yelled-no, screamed at him, called him useless and threw him out of this house. Germany was really the last person Italy wanted to see right now.

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><p>Am I the only one who pictured the emergency worker with a moustache? Like, originally, he didn't have one when I was first writing him in, but then I realised half way through writing this chapter that the guy is a true-blood Italian. So his English is going to sound thick with the Italian accent. So I wrote in the '-a's' after some words and then POOF! He had a moustache. Specifically, the moustache Romano had in episode where he meets Germany and hates him off the bat.<p>

Eres tonto, excusa horrible para un hermano! Obtener el infierno fuera de él! - "You stupid, horrible excuse for a brother! Get the hell away from him!" In my little head cannon world, Spain likes Italy the way Romano likes Prussia: tolerable until they start to become loud, annoying, and basically act like themselves.

Ugh, the first paragraph about what Spain has seen was just disturbing to write. Being a girl, I don't like stories that have rape in them, but I had to describe Spain's past as the way it would've actually been… Regardless of how disturbing it would have been.

And I am aware that Veneziano and Romano are not twins.

An O2 sat monitor is exactly what you think it is. It's a little clip that is put on your finger that measures your heart rate and the amount of oxygen in the blood. Chances are, if you've ever had a physical, you've probably had one on your finger at some point, whether or not you knew what is was, exactly. I've know what an O2 sat monitor is by heart because in middle school, after I had an asthma attack (which happened a lot. Mostly during gym class) I wasn't allowed to leave unless my O2 sat was back to 100%.

In the mean time, I need to stop being such a lazy procrastinator…

Oh, and in case anyone here started reading either my "Leaving" story or the Halloween one where I left off with Germany chasing Prussia who was after Italy to convince him to go to a haunted house, I am going to finish them. "Leaving" is almost done, I just need to finish it with a cute, romantic, and probably sappy ending. The Halloween might take a little while. Understandably, it's kinda hard to get-in-the-mood with a holiday fic when it's not that holiday season. But do not fret! Fall is my favourite season and where I live, there are a few fall festivities that will soon get me in the mood. (ignoring how perverted that sounds)

…

I talk too much…


	7. Chapter 7

First off, Guys, I seriously am sorry that you have to put up with my slow shit. So for all of you that are still following this story, I really wish I could give you all a hug and a gold star. I wish I could say that I'll try to write faster, but I think we all know that's not going to happen. So, I'm so sorry.

I also need to apologise to anyone who has reviewed or left a comment of this story since I've posted the previous note. I try to make sure I respond to people within a day of them reviewing, but lately, it's been taken me quite a few days and that's quite a few days longer than I would like. So, if you've reviewed and I either returned your message a few days later or (hopefully not) not at all, I really do apologise. That's not normally like me, but I've been a little discombobulated with my new school year.

I would also like to thank everyone who has put up with my slower-than-I'd-like-them-to-be updates, because, quite frankly, they are slower than I'd like them to be.

Warning: there's some one-sided Pru-Ita in this chapter. Hopefully that doesn't bother anyone. And possibly Germany bashing?

So, this is what I was listening to when I wrote (part) of this chapter. It's a pretty good song, and I recommend listening to, not only this song, but some of the other songs she's covered, as well.

_h t t p : / / w w w . y o u t u b e . c o m / w a t c h ? v = L b I X e S x D Y q s & f e a t u r e = B F a & l i s t = W L C 1 4 A 4 3 A 0 A D 8 0 4 2 6 A & l f = a u t o p l a y_

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><p>"ITA!"<p>

Italy turned around rapidly, met with pain from his sore neck, and saw Prussia and Germany rushing over to him. Italy felt happy at seeing Prussia but saddened at seeing Germany: the man who yelled-no, screamed at him, called him useless and threw him out of this house. Germany was really the last person Italy wanted to see right now.

And yet, there he was.

…

Running right towards him…

In Italy's Germany-loathing state, he failed to notice who wasn't slowing and suddenly, Italy found himself surrounded by a silver haired, self proclaimed 'awesome' man by the name of Gilbert. Italy's face was smushed against Prussia's chest, seeing as Prussia was taller than Italy.

"Oh my god Ita-chan! Are you ok? What the hell happened?" Before Italy could even think about answering, he was pushed backwards at arms length by his shoulders by Prussia. The sudden movement caused Italy to cry out in pain and had not Prussia been holding him firmly, Italy would have jumped away. But Italy's flinch did not go unnoticed by Prussia, or Germany. However, Germany was all to aware of the fact that Italy hadn't given him acknowledgement on his arrival. Italy wasn't even trying to look in his direction, much less make eye contact.

Prussia loosened his grip but kept his hands on Italy's shoulders and gave Italy a once over. Both he and Germany now noticed that Italy had his left arm bandaged up, he was favouring one leg over the other, and had dried blood on his shirt, jeans, mostly his hands, and small smudged blood wipes on his face. But it was Italy's face that really made the two German's worry. Italy's eyes were bloodshot red with un-fallen tears hanging in his eyes and the unmistakeable path of dried tears on his cheeks. His hair was dishevelled and looked as if he had been beaten up.

"Italia…what happened to you?" Prussia asked in a soft but firm voice, voicing the thoughts that Germany desperately wanted to voice for himself. However, Germany silently was glad he hadn't asked Italy that question because as soon as the words left Prussia's mouth and registered in Italy's head, the Italian dropped his head down and started to sob loudly, taking Prussia off guard, as they have never seen Italy cry so seriously before. Prussia took his hands back from Italy's shoulders like they were on fire and wasn't entirely sure what to do.

In a heartbeat, Germany shoved Prussia out of the way and took Italy into his arms. Throwing his pride out the window, Germany held Italy tightly within his protective embrace and allowed Italy to cry into his chest. He could feel the smaller nation tremble and shake as he sobbed but he also noticed that Italy wasn't hugging him back. In fact, now that Germany thought about it, Italy felt a lot tenser than he normally does when he usually receives hugs Germany. And it's not as though Italy doesn't have control of his arms because they aren't pinned to his sides. But even though Italy wasn't hugging him back, Germany inwardly smiled at the fact that Italy wasn't pushing him away. That alone was a good sign.

Or…it was.

Before Germany could even register the subtle change in Italy, he was pushed backwards by a forceful shove. Germany had a stunned look across his face as he slowly met eyes with the back if Italy's head. Needless to say, it was not what Germany expected. For starters, it was normally the Italian who was always clingy and begging Germany for hugs and kisses. It was always the german who pushed away the Italian during hugs and kisses. Yet, not this time. Staring at the back of Italy's head, Germany never felt more cold. He knew he had made a mistake, but enough to cause his dearest and only best friend/ secret love to shun him? Germany didn't even think that Italy had a heartless and malevolent bone in his body.

Although…

Germany had heard the stories of Veneziano and Romano back during the ages when the mafia controlled most of Italy. He had heard, in detail, about some of the things that Romano had done, including the number of people he has shot and killed. But Veneziano is such a dopey and kind nation. The german didn't believe a single story told about Veneziano during the mafia ages. France once tried to tell Germany the story about how two entire minor mafia gangs had been wiped out in one night, saying that Veneziano had been the one responsible, but the german wrote off the story as a lie. Looking at Italy now, the kid didn't even seem capable of killing a fly.

Looking at Italy now…

But what about Italy from back _then?_

That… that Germany couldn't answer.

"-re you here?" A sudden cold-hearted voice broke through Germany thoughts. He looked at Italy, who still had his back to Germany and his shoulders unusually tense.

"W-what?"

"I said," Italy turned around and faced Germany, still not making eye contact, "why are you here?" Never once before in his life had Germany ever heard such an icy cold voice come from Italy. Italy had always treated Germany like a best friend and clung to him constantly, sometimes even in his sleep.

"I-Italy… I…" Germany looked away for a moment, the atmosphere starting to take an eerie and uncomfortable turn. "I wanted to make sure you were okay." Germany looked at his feet, "that's what friends do, so…"

Italy continued to stare at Germany, his jaw slightly open in shock. "That's why you're here?" Italy asked in a soft but strained voice. The sound made Germany even more uncomfortable.

"What…what do you want me to say? I'm here, aren't I?"

Both nations went silent. Instantly, Germany wished he could take back the words. Italy just stood there, staring so intensely that he might as well have been trying to see through Germany and Prussia.

"You should leave." Italy spoke clearly and calmly. There was no hesitation. He spoke as though he had not a second thought.

"Wha- no! No, I will not leave. You can't just tell me what to do!"

"You bastard! You insulted me, swore at me, threw me out of your house, and just show up here without so much as an apology!" Germany flinched at Italy's cold words, but Italy showed no signs of stopping. "Just how much_ stronzate_ do you think I will take, huh? Is it your goal to make me snap? Isn't that what you've always wanted? To break me down and build me into your 'perfect little soldier' who follows all the rules?" Tears were beginning to flow down Italy's face but he ignored them. He was on a roll and wouldn't stop until he got everything off his chest. "I can't believe you even have the nerve!" Italy through a punch into Germany's stomach, which, to Germany, didn't hurt. The only pain Germany could feel was the from the words that left Italy's mouth and rung in his ears. "I can't believe I actually fell in love with you!" Another punch, landing on Germany's chest, over his heart. _"Bastardo! Basta uscire di qui! Io non voglio più vederti!"_

Germany was numbed to the core. _'Did Italy just say he loved me?_' Italy continued to punch at Germany, probably unaware of what he had just confessed to the german nation. Germany stood, still dumbfounded and in shock, for a few moments until he finally regaining his conscience. Just before Italy was about to land another punch, Germany reached out and grabbed Italy's wrist and held it firmly, suspended in mid-air. Italy's countenance showed shock. His eyes were wide, red and puffy with tears still flowing down his cheeks, which were flushed. But Italy's shock only lasted for second, and he quickly raised his other arm, ready to strike down Germany and take his arm back. However, Germany grabbed his other arm and held that one in air, both arms parallel. Germany's serious face standing up against Italy's shocked and angered face.

Italy struggled against Germany's hold, despite knowing he could never actually get away. But at the moment, all Italy wanted was to get as far away from Germany as possible. He even took a page out of Romano's book and made a move to kick Germany in the shin. Which worked, because Germany flinched, but he still wouldn't let go.

"Italien!" Germany cried.

"No! No, let me go! Argh!" Italy continued to struggle and shout at the german. "I don't care what you have to say! Just let me go!"

"No! So stop resisting and listen to me for a second!" Germany quickly tightened his grip for moment to try to get Italy to stop struggling. The Italian stopped struggling, but held a very persistent glare in his eye that was directed right at Germany. He let out a low growl, but allowed Germany his attention for the time being.

Germany let out a relieved sigh and took a deep breath in and slowly let it out, steadying himself for what he was about to ask. He looked directly into Italy's eyes, ignoring the angry glare, "Italy…do you love me?"

* * *

><p>So much for beating my last word count, but I really wanted to get something out to you guys.<p>

Now, on an important note, what happens next is up to you guys. I'm not entirely sure what should happen next with Italy and Germany. What do you think Italy's response should be? Don't be shy now. :)


	8. Chapter 8

So, the song for this chapter is rainbows on Fire by Elissa Franceschi. [ h t t p : / / w w w . y o u t u b e . c o m / w a t c h ? v = B s I B U t O F w t I ] You don't actually have to listen to it while you read, but it adds to the effect.

Well, it did for me, until the song 'Where them girls at?" came on…

* * *

><p>~`Hospital Scene~<p>

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

"Scalpel."

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

"Will someone get a cloth and clear up some of the blood?"

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

"Okay. I'm going to start on the lung now."

"Here's the tube, doctor."

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

"I'm making the incision."

"Someone get the

vacuum ready!"

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

"Let's get the blood out of his lungs so we can re-inflate it."

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEEEEEEEEEEEE-

"Nurse! Get the defibrillator! His heart rate's dropped! We're losing him!"

"Right away doctor!"

-.

"CLEAR!"

* * *

><p>The walls of the waiting room were beginning to dig on Spain's nerves. How long had he even been here? An hour? 10 hours? A day? Spain couldn't even tell anymore. And there wasn't a clock in the room anywhere, or at least where he could see. Honestly, who doesn't put a clock in the surgical waiting room? It's bad enough that he has to wait in this sterile, white-walled room; not knowing what his lover's condition is. Sure, I mean, Romano is a nation, so he shouldn't die. Right? Nation's can't die like mortals can… Right?<p>

Although, there isn't a set Rules and Guidelines given to you once you become a nation. For all Spain knew, maybe nations can die from mortal events. And maybe Romano will just be the first nation to go down in the history of nations to have that happen to. Spain groaned and dropped his head onto his hands. He had to stop thinking like this! Being a negative-nelly isn't going to make this whole situation any better. 'Positive thoughts, Spain! Think positive thoughts' Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Spain lifted his head up and rested his chin on his fists.

"Okay…yeah, positive thoughts." Another deep breath. "So, when Romano is all better, I'll have to make sure we have lots and lots of tomatoes for him." Forcing a smile on his face, Spain continued on with his pep-talk. "And I'll have to make sure that the bed covers are clean before Romano comes home." Chuckling lightly to himself, "I'll have to stock up on pizza materials." Slowly, the pathetic smile Spain had managed to plaster to his face began to fade, the worry he had been so desperately trying to hide starting to shine through. Grabbing his silver cross from around his neck, Spain started to say a Spanish prayer.

* * *

><p>"CLEAR!"<p>

"No change."

"CLEAR!

"He's still flat-lining."

"Dammit!"

…

"Should we call it?"

…

"Doctor?"

…

…

"…Time of death…5:24pm…"

* * *

><p>"Ah-hem. Mr. Carreido?"<p>

Literally jumping out of his seat, Spain looked up to the doctor standing before him. The man looked tired and had a slight poker face. His blue scrubs were clean, Spain noted relieved, and the man had a face mask pulled under his chin. His white surgical cap was still on his head and his feet were still covered by the matching blue shoe covers. Naturally assuming that the man was the surgeon for Romano's surgery and with a bit of hope, Spain got up to meet him. But as Spain approached the man, he noticed that the man showed no signs of happiness or joy. In fact, the man looked like he was about to cry. Immediately, Spain's hopeful face fell to the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces.

"Signore… I'm…" the man took a deep breath and bounced on one foot to the other. "I'm sorry… he didn't make it."

Neither Spain nor the man said anything for a few seconds. The surgeon was clearly upset and Spain was as frozen as a rock. Surely he had heard wrong, Spain thought. There was no way in Hell that Romano was gone. That just wasn't possible. "I'm sorry. Can you repeat that? I seem to have heard you wrong," Spain spoke clearly and calmly, an almost eerie tone straining his voice.

The doctor placed his hand on Spain's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Signore. You didn't hear me wrong: Lovino has passed away. He didn't make it through re-inflating his collapsed lung." The surgeon patted Spain's shoulder. "I'm very sorry sir."

In an instant, every single muscle in Spain's body tensed up. His fists balled up and his toes curled in his shoes. Normally bright, smiling emerald eyes were cold, dark, and lifeless. It was as though every single happy memory, smile, and dream had been shot and thrown out the hypothetical window of Spain's body.

"¿Muertos?" Spain whispered. "…What?"

"I'm so sorry-"

"No…"

"Signore-"

"No."

"We tried everything we coul-"

"NO!" Spain grabbed the man's hand and tossed it away from him. Instantly, Spain walked a few steps away from the man, trying to contain his anger. His shaking fists closing in and out. Under his breath, he began trying to count to ten: a technique that he had shown Romano to help him control his angry outbursts. And just the thought of Romano brought tears to his eyes, because now Spain would never be able to see his lover angry ever again. Nor would he be able to see Romano try to hide the smiles that somehow manage to make themselves appear on Romano's face. Never again would Spain be able to kiss his cheeks and watch the tomato-esque blush work it's way onto Romano's face. No more brushing the stray strands of hair out from Romano's face while the former laid on top on his chest asleep after a glorious night of passionate love-making.

Never again would Spain be able to see or do any of those things.

The surgeon stood where he was. This wasn't an uncommon thing. All too often, lovers of patients who pass away in surgery react in extreme ways. Most will cry, a few will get angry. There are even the minority who faint after hearing the life changing information. Anger is not an uncommon reaction to these types of things.

"No!…He can't be dead…he… he can't be…"

Suddenly, a nurse ran into the room, still wearing her surgical gown which had blood on it. She looked frantically over to where the doctor and Spain were.

"Doctor! He… I don't know how, but… he's alive! His heart rate has picked up and he's breathing! I've never seen it before! He's alive!"

"What?" The surgeon cried out. Staring in disbelief, Spain stared at he nurse as if she had said something in Mandarin. The surgeon started for the operating door but stopped when he felt a grip on his arm, catching him where he stood. Turing around, he was met with concerned but serious green eyes. "Please. Keep him alive…"

"I will-"

"I can't lose him." Spain kept his grip on the surgeon's arm, but after an intense second or two of eye contact between the two, Spain let go and took a few steps back.

"Don't worry. I'll be out as soon as possible to let you know everything. I won't let him die again." Hesitantly, Spain nodded. The surgeon nodded back and rushed back into the operating room to get redressed, leaving Spain still standing alone in the waiting room. Taking a deep, deep breath, Spain ran his fingers through his hair and walked back over to his chair, letting gravity take him down into the chair.

So many things were running through his head.

_Romano is hit by a truck._

_Romano is rushed to the hospital._

_Romano was dead. _

_Now Romano isn't dead._

God, everything is going by faster than he could even process. Taking out his silver cross again, Spain started yet another prayer for his Italian.

* * *

><p>About an hour later, the surgeon returned to the waiting room and let Spain know that they had been able to finish everything up with Romano's lung. Without a doubt, the surgeon could hardly believe that Lovino was alive. He <em>had<em> been officially dead for 10 minutes. As a surgeon, he has had cases where the patient has flat-lined and had been able to be brought back. But never had a patient died and come when the doctors had given up. For god's sakes! The kid had been laying on the table for 10 minutes! How the hell did his heart suddenly decide to start back up again?

It was then that Spain decided to take a leap and tell the surgeon who he and Romano really were. That he, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, was actually the personification of the Country of Spain. And the comatose Lovino Vargas was actually the personification of South Italy. That they had both been living for centuries, himself older than Lovino.

Now, the surgeon, …he was a little disbelieving. At first he laughed the statement off. How could he not? The man in front of him was definitely not centuries old. He looked like he was only 24. But Spain didn't relent and kept telling the man that he wasn't lying. And eventually, the surgeon had no choice but to accept what Spain was telling him. I mean, given what had happened in the operating room, what other explanation would actually explain how someone could 'die' and then come back like that.

After 'convincing' the surgeon, Spain promptly called his boss and Romano's boss and asked them to send someone to the hospital to take care of everyone who had been involved with Romano's surgery. Since the identities of the countries cannot be compromised, anyone who learns their identities must be taken in by the governments of the compromised countries and abide by the rules. The identities of the nations cannot be known to the general public, otherwise the nations would never be able to go out in public for about a century.

After Spain's explanation, the surgeon told Spain the room number where Romano was taken to. Warning him not to disturb the still knocked-out patient, the surgeon stayed in his seat in the waiting room while Spain left. He claimed he needed a minute or two to sort everything out. So Spain thanked the doctor and left, deciding not to tell the doctor that he wouldn't be alone for long, seeing as how representatives from both Spain and Italy would be there soon enough to talk with him.

* * *

><p>~Romano's room~<p>

Standing out front of Romano's recovery room, Spain took a deep breath and opened the door. Laying on the bed, unconscious, was Romano. He was hooked up to about four or five machines.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Walking further into the room, Spain stared at his comatose lover's face. He looked peaceful. I mean, besides his temporarily wrapped up arm and leg. And sure, the long cut running from his forehead up into his hairline was turning dark blue and there was a bit of dried blood around the edges. There was also the plastic tube in Romano's mouth that was keeping his breathing up, accentuating his lower lip that was stitched up and swollen. Plus, overlooking the fact that Romano's face was a few shades paler than he had ever looked in his life. But to Spain, he still looked peaceful. Romano's frown lines where smoothed out and the tips of his eyelashes were just barely touching his cheek.

_Cold. _

_Lifeless._

Dead.

Immediately, Spain was hit with those words. A few tears left Spain's eyes as he recalled what the doctor had said. Romano had been dead for about 10 minutes. Romano had _died. _Spain had come so close to losing his fragile lover permanently. It was truly nothing short of a miracle that Romano was still alive.

Reaching out cautiously, Spain gently brushed a finger along the side of the Italian's face. He let out a relieved sigh: there was no change in temperature with Romano's skin. The doctors had warned that at any point, should Spain notice a change in temperature, fever or chill, he should let the doctors know immediately. The doctors only made it through half of the surgery that Romano needed, so until it was certain that Romano could survive what's happened so far, the doctors wouldn't be able to finish all the procedures. Luckily for both Romano and Spain, the only remaining procedures are minor. Romano's top priority once he was taken to the hospital was repairing his collapsed lung. And although that had been a feat in itself, Spain was undoubtedly happy that Romano hadn't 'really' died on the table.

But hardest part now is just waiting.

Spain sighed again. The surgeon told Spain, shortly after leaving the operating room, that they would like to wait for Romano to wake up before they continue on. But if Romano remained in the same condition for the next day or two, the doctors would go back into surgery and finish everything up because of the time limit before his broken bones would start to repair themselves in the wrong places. The idea sounded horrible to Spain. He knew it was necessary for Romano to heal (and possibly live, but Spain didn't want to think of it like that). But Spain really wanted to see Romano's olive eyes and tell him that no matter what might happen, he would always love him an that he would be waiting for him the moment he got out from surgery.

Gently, Spain took hold of Romano's hand and held it in his own. Kissing each knuckle, Spain started to rub Romano's limp, un-bandaged hand with his thumb.

"Lovino…wake up mi amor. Por favor, you need to wake up. _I_ need you to wake up."

* * *

><p>This chapter was crap.<p>

I really hope I haven't already made a list of Romano's injuries and that that list and this list are different.

Romano list of injuries (For your benefit and mine)

Punctured lung (right)

Cut lip (bottom, left side)

Large cut on forehead

Broken leg (tibia)

Broken arm (radius and ulna)

3 broken ribs (true ribs 3 ,4,5)

2 broken fingers (left hand, pointer and middle)

I'm taking anatomy, so I kinda have to go into detail about the injuries sustained.


	9. Chapter 9

I can't believe how many of you guys said the last chapter wasn't crap. I am of shock and disbelieving.

But apparently, fan fiction is being a prissy b*tch and won't let me respond to any of you amazing people. It keeps popping up and saying "Oops! We cannot find this page on .net. Most likely you are accessing the site with an outdated link. .?rwid=138477501 blah blah blah numbers"

So, Thank you to SuperNekoFan, MizsIndependent, Ashe-Kuro, NONAMESWEREAVAILABLE, InTheAsylum, Rainfall Sopranoofireland, IWantAPetBadger, and NekOtaku. And because of fan fiction, I will instead post the next chapter at cheetah speed so you know that I'm not ignoring any of you, (because I am paranoid about that). Also, because all the reviews I've been getting for the last few chapters have been all positive and nice. And, I've also been accepted into college, so I feel the need to share the happiness.

* * *

><p><em>Now there's gravel in our voices…glasses shattered from the fight… <em>

"_Italien!" Germany cried. _

"_No! No, let me go! Argh!" Italy continued to struggle and shout at the German. "I don't care what you have to say! Just let me go!"_

_In this tug of war, you'll always win…_

"_No! So stop resisting and listen to me for a second!" Germany quickly tightened his grip for moment to try to get Italy to stop struggling. The Italian stopped struggling, but held a very persistent glare in his eye that was directed right at Germany. He let out a low growl, but allowed Germany his attention for the time being. _

_Even when I'm right._

_Germany let out a relieved sigh and took a deep breath in and slowly let it out, steadying himself for what he was about to ask. He looked directly into Italy's eyes, ignoring the angry glare, "Italy…do you love me?" _

Italy froze. '_What the hell did he just say?' _Italy kept asking himself over and over again in his mind. Surely, he had heard the brusque man wrong. Never once in a hundred years had Italy even thought that he would even hear the German say the word 'love.' Clearly, his brain must be playing tricks on him. Emotional trauma and all that.

"Italy, answer me. Do you love me?" His voice taking a desperate tone.

Italy remained quiet. Honestly, how the hell did Germany expect him to answer such a intimate question out of the blue like that?

But… then again, how did he really feel? Did he love the German? …Well, yeah. He still sort of does, too. But that doesn't change the way Germany had acted towards him. He had been cast aside by the German. Thrown out of his house. Left to fend for himself. Clearly, Germany did not feel the same way. This had to be another way to try and get him to break. After all, Germany being a military man and all, he was more than capable to harm him, both mentally, emotionally, and physically.

"Italy?" Italy heard Germany's voice crack.

"…You want my answer?…"

"Ja, I do."

"…You really want my answer?…"

"Of course I do! I wouldn't have asked if I didn't!"

Italy paused for second. "I honestly don't know anymore." Italy ripped his arm away from Germany's grip and looked down at the ground. "I did love you, at one point." Italy looked back up and stared directly into Germany's eyes, making the German feel as though Italy was trying to see into his very soul. "Is that what you wanted to hear me say?" Italy chuckled darkly. "I bet it wasn't. I bet you expected me to start crying, fall down to my knees and shout that I'll always love you. That's what you thought I'd do, right? Because you think I'm that pathetic." Italy's stare turned into a deathly glare. "But you now what?"

Germany was almost afraid to answer. "W-what?"

Italy continued to glare at the german for second before answering. "I don't have time to be pathetic. Because this time, it wasn't just me you hurt. You're little _temper_ has brought more people into your little hurt game. Lovino is fighting for his life as we speak and Spain is forced to watch and wait while his lover may be dying! And you know what? It's. All. Your. FAULT. "

Germany stood speechless as Italy turned and walked away. He had no idea the extent of the damage his actions had caused. Honestly, how was he supposed to know that what he did and said could cause so much to happen? But it was clear as day, that his actions _had _hurt more than one person. He had hurt more than just Italy.

"I-Italy! Wait!" Germany started after Italy, who was a good 10 feet ahead and allowing the distance to grow. But even after Germany's calls to wait, Italy kept walking, because deep down, Italy wasn't sure if that if he stopped, he would be able to keep walking. A part of him, his heart, told him to stay. His heart told him that he should stay and try to talk things out with Germany. After all, it wasn't as though Germany had said and done all those things because he knew that all this horrible drama would happen. And honestly, how bad did he really want to walk away from Germany?

But then the other part of him, Italy's brain, was there telling him to keep walking away. Because even if Germany hadn't meant for any of this to happen, it still happened. He still got angry and even if he promised to let it never happen again, it still could. And then how bad would things be after that? What would his excuse be that time? Would something even worse happen? Even if Italy loves him, is that love worth all this pain?

'_Yes…'_

'_No…'_

It was then that Italy realised he had stopped moving. Being so lost in thought, he hadn't even registered the arm holding him where he stood. Already knowing who was behind him, Italy turned around slowly, preparing himself for the next onslaught of words that would make his heart and brain continue fighting with each other.

But when Italy finished his 180, he wasn't met with blue eyes. Staring back at him were crimson eyes. Italy gasped, having completely forgotten the Prussian during his and Germany's 'conversation.'

"Italy. I can't make you do anything, but are you sure this is really what you really want to do? Do you really want to walk away right now?" There was no waiver in Prussia's voice. His steadfast words were clear as day. No sign of sympathy or even regret. He wasn't speaking on behalf of his brother, Germany. Nor was he speaking for himself. Prussia was speaking for Italy's own behalf. Voicing his own inner questions. Does he really want to walk away? Is this really what he wants to do?

Looking over Prussia's shoulder, Italy saw Germany. He was on his knees, not crying, just totally frozen. The sight definitely tore a few heartstrings. But was it worth it? Was _he_ worth it? The pain? The sadness? Italy would be lying if he said he didn't still love Germany. But the ultimate question still remained.

Did he love Germany enough to make any of this right?

It was a simple question, really. But a simple question that had more meaning behind it than any other thing Italy had ever known.

For an Italian, love is a definite science that Italy had known since that day he was born. He had been taught by Rome to follow his heart. And after HRE, Italy had taught himself to treasure love with every ounce of his being. So why is this all so hard?

"I don't know. I just don't know." Taking a step backwards, Prussia let go of his grip on Italy's arm. "I'm sorry, but I just can't answer that right no-"

"Do you love him?" Prussia cut through Italy's response. Blood red eyes stayed locked on Italy's brown eyes, yet Prussia's gaze didn't hold as much weight as Germany's had.

"Prussia, I just don't kno-"

"Yes you do. I know you Italy. Who you love has never plagued you. You're not unsure about whether or not you love Germany. You're unsure if you can still trust him."

Italy stood speechless. That was his problem, wasn't it? He just didn't know if he could trust Germany.

"He's not like Holy Rome. If you walk away, he won't disappear, Italy." Prussia took a confident step forward. "So I ask you again. Do you love him?"

Looking down at the ground, Italy closed his eyes and allowed Prussia's words to really sink in. Does he love Germany?

Bringing his head up, Italy kept his gaze away form Prussia's. Taking a deep breath, "I…I'd be lying if I said I don't love him."

Prussia took a relieved sigh but kept his serious demeanour. "I can't make what West did alright. But I can tell you he is sorry, Italy. It's not completely his fault about his temper. I'm the one who raised him after all, and we both know I'm not the nicest person to live with." A small smile managed to make it's way onto Italy's face. "So Italy, please, don't just walk away from here because of how he acted. Because then it's just as much my fault as it is his. Maybe even more… and I sure as hell won't let you walk away from here without resolving this when I'm at fault."

Neither Italy nor Prussia spoke after that, both standing there silent. Holding his ground, Prussia kept his eyes on Italy. When he said he wouldn't let Italy leave open-ended: he meant it. If there was anything that Prussia prided himself in, it was how he always resolved his problems. It didn't matter if it took a war and the loss of thousands of lives or just an hour and a hand shake, Prussia never left an argument open-ended. And after what seemed like an hour, Italy broke the gaze and walked past Prussia and over to Germany, leaving a smiling Prussia behind him.

Bending down, Italy acted before Germany could even blink, connecting their lips. And just as soon as the kiss started, it ended. Pulling back with a pout and a light blush, Italy stood straight up and looked away. "Let's make this clear: I love you, Germany. But I don't trust you."

Germany stared wide eyed up at the Italian, his face a deep red and his mouth slightly apart. 'H-he loves me… he loves me!' Before Italy could brace himself, Germany stood up as fast as he could and practically tackle-hugged Italy. With arms tightly wrapped around Italy's waist, Germany pecked Italy's forehead. "You don't know how happy I am to hear you say that." Italy just scoffed at him. Taking a adeep breath Germany used one of his hands to move Italy's head back to facing him. "Italy… I know I've made a mistake…but I promise," Germany pulled far enough back to look into Italy's eyes, "I will do everything I can to try and make you trust me again. I don't care if it takes years or even centuries.…I-I love you, Italy." Italy took a shuddering intake of breath. "So, I'm willing to wait, for as ever long as it takes, for you to trust me again." Slowly using his thumb, Germany gently brushed a few tears from Italy's eye, who until then, hadn't even realised he had been crying. Taking another deep, shuddering breath, Italy stared back into Germany's eyes. "Do you really mean that?" Italy spoke in a hesitant whisper.

Germany cupped Italy's face in his hands. "Ja… I do, Italien."

Not even a second later, Italy broke into a large grin. "Well then, I'll hold you to your promise." Leaning forward, Germany rested his forehead on Italy's. Softly placing a kiss on the Italian's lips, Germany pulled back and dropped his arms to around Italy's waist. Letting out a thinking sigh, Germany tightened his grip for a second and whispered, "do you want to go find Romano?"

Instantly, Italy's face fell. Remembrance flooding his mind of the accident and the state Romano was in when he was taken away.

"…I don't think Spain would appreciate me being anywhere near fratello for a while." Taking a step back and breaking Germany's grip, Italy awkwardly grabbed his uninjured arm.

"But do you still want to go find him. To make sure that he's alright?… He is your brother, after all."

Meeting Germany's eyes with sadness in them, Italy slowly nodded his head. Germany held out his hand for Italy to take, who sent Germany a questioning look. Mouthing out 'just take it,' Italy placed his hand in Germany's, a slight warmth seemed to fill him from the simple contact. It would take a while before Italy would truly be able trust the German, but Italy decided, as they walked to Germany's car, that so long as Germany kept his side of the promise, it would all be worth it in the end.

* * *

><p>I feel like my Germany is very OOC. But if I make him all stoic and 'TEN-HUT!' then he won't be able to make the necessary progress he needs in this story. :\<p>

So most of you said you wanted Germany to beg, give or take the one or two people who wanted them to make up. So here was begging Germany.

And by the way, I am a Germany/HRE believer. I just had to make it sound like the were separate people to make Prussia's point.


	10. Chapter 10

First off, **Axias! **You sent me an awesome message but I can't respond to it because of problems with fanfic and you're pm messaging is off. But I am very appreciative and please tell your friend that she gets a gold star. And can you figure out why she wouldn't tell you the name? If it's because the name of this story is stupid then I agree with her. Really, I do.

One thing you all should know about me, is that I cannot stand not responding back to people who leave reviews. It is a huge pet-peeve of mine. HUGE. You don't even know.

And I apologise for such a short chapter. I tried to make this longer, but I didn't know what else to write without going into what should happen next chapter.

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><p>BEEP BEEP BEEP<p>

The steady sound of the machines keeping Romano alive filled the room. The fact that they were continuous and exact was starting to get on Spain's nerves. And if they weren't keeping his lover alive, he probably would've reached over and let his conquistador side take over and smash every single machine into pieces. But Spain had a pretty good feeling that Romano wouldn't appreciate that very much…. Well, neither would the doctors, but they didn't count.

But honestly, shouldn't Romano have woken up by now? Sure, it's only been like… maybe a few hours? That was of course an estimate. Spain still hadn't managed to find a clock in the damn room. 'I really should mention that to the nurse…' Spain made a mental note.

"Hhnngg…" a quiet grumbly sound managed to find it's way into Spain's ears. The sound caught Spain off guard at first. Thinking it was his stomach, the Spaniard placed his hand on his stomach, but felt no grumble. "Nnghhh…" There it was again! Perhaps it was the ventilation system? Standing up, Spain walked under the vent in the room and tried to hear any noise coming from the ceiling. But there was nothing. Well, jeez? Where else could that sound be com-

Whipping back around to face where Romano was, Spain was shocked to have ember eyes open. So shocked, in fact, that he blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes, closed them, and started counting to ten before slowly opening his eyes. Sure enough, Romano was awake and watching him with a confused but secretly amused look on his face. The corners of his mouth were slightly up-turned and he had light layer of blush over his cheeks. (It didn't surprise Spain, though, to see the air mask thrown over the side of the bed. Typical Romano behaviour.) And despite the fact that Romano's hair was messy, his lip swollen, and his face paler, Spain still was struck by the Italian's handsomeness. God, Spain would've been damned if he hadn't fallen in love with the Italian all over again.

Dazedly walking forward, Spain took a shaky seat in the chair next to Romano. Carefully reaching forward, Spain rested his hand on Romano's cheek, languidly caressing it. Letting out a airy sigh, "you're awake…"

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><p>"…Germany?"<p>

"Hm? Yes Italia?"

…

The thoughts running through Italy's mind where starting to blur together. The world around him seemed to be underwater as all the colours ran and everything bright blinded him. It was if someone took his whole world and magnetised the brightness to maximum levels. It started to hurt just keeping his eyes open. Suddenly, Italy's head felt much, much heavier.

"Italia?"

"…Let's not go to the hospital."

"What? I thought you wanted to see Roman-"

"I just want to go home."

"Are you sure?"

…

"Yes."

"Well, I guess we can head back to Deutschland-"

"No. I want to go home. To _my_ home."

"…"

"…"

"…I won't leave you… Not after what happened today."

"…"

"Italy?"

Germany glanced over at the Italian, expecting him to be glaring or sulking. But Italy's head was slumped forward, his body held back from the seatbelt. "Italy?" Germany tried to wake up the Italian without keeping his eyes off the road for too long, but he quickly realised that Italy had either fallen asleep or passed out. And of course after everything that happened today, Germany didn't dare take a single chance. Immediately, he pulled the car to the side of the road. He quickly lifted Italy's head up and as gently as he could in a panic, raised Italy's eyelids. Just as he feared, Italy was out cold and not because he was asleep. Germany put the back of his hand on Italy's forehead to check his temperature. And to his growing fear, Italy was warm.

"Scheibe!"

Not wasting a second, Germany whipped his seatbelt back on and started the car in rapid speed. They were already en route to the hospital, so Germany sped off as fast as the car would let him, not giving a single fuck about the speed limit.

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><p>"How do you feel Lovi?"<p>

A small smile graced Spain's face. The worry that had consumed him for the last 10 hours having left him. Romano looking straight into Spain's eyes, hearing every word he spoke, switching his focus between each of Spain's emerald eyes.

But he remained silent.

Spain stayed quiet, waiting for Romano to speak. But after a few seconds, it slowly became clear that Romano wasn't going to say anything.

_Romano couldn't say anything._

The smile dropped from Spain's face. Reaching out to cup Romano's cheek, Spain stared deep into Romano's eyes. "Lovino…?" The worry coming back at full force to Spain. Noticing the pain that filled Romano's eyes, Spain just stopped. His brain stopped working, and his body froze. Shaking, Spain gently rested his forehead on Romano's, closing his eyes. "Lovi…say something…. Please….say something…"

But when Spain pulled back to look back into Romano's eyes, the same pained look shone through Romano's eyes.

He wanted to talk,

He wanted to tell Spain not to worry.

That everything is okay.

That he loved him so much.

But he couldn't.

Tears were beginning to form in Romano's eyes, small ones falling down his cheek as larger drops fell onto the bed sheet. Silently shaking, Romano cried. The sight broke Spain's already damaged heart. Quickly reaching forward, Spain pulling Romano onto his lap on the bed. Dimly remembering Romano's injuries, Spain hugged his crying lover as hard as he could without harming him. Rubbing his back, Spain fought his own tears.

Romano had finally woken up. But he couldn't speak. The doctors hadn't mentioned anything like this might happen.

And now, Spain might never hear his wonderful Italian lover's voice ever again.

Would this be permanent? Would Romano ever be able to talk ever again? Was there something that the doctors could do to help Romano get his voice back?

So lost in his thoughts, to took Spain a little while longer before he realised that Romano had fallen asleep on him. Taking a shaky intake of breath, Spain manoeuvred himself to laying down on the bed with Romano still on top of himself. Trying to calm himself down, Spain pushed Romano's hospital gown up and began rubbing tender circles on Romano's lower back, a move that always calmed down Spain as much it calmed down Romano. But even still, Spain couldn't stop the horrible thoughts running through his mind.

And the loudest thought:

'_What would happen now?'_

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><p>Do you all hate me yet?<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

Storming through the emergency room doors, Germany carried Italy in his arms as gently as he could without jumbling his head. Italy had suddenly became cold in the car and then promptly passed out. It was so odd, it all happened out of no where. Italy seemed fine in the car when they first got in. What changed that made Italy so sick all of a sudden?

"Sir. What is your emergency?"

"I…I, uh, I don't really know…I mean, he was in an accident a few hours ago, but the ambulance checked him out…they said he was okay to leave… and he was fine in the car…but then his attitude changed and then he passed out." The nurse quickly jotted down a few notes, whistled for a wheelchair to be brought around, and then promptly instructed the German to place the unconscious man in the chair. Before Germany could even move, the nurse was wheeling Italy away from him.

The moment Italy was no longer in Germany's arms, the whole world seemed to speed by the German. There were blank faces all around him, rushing to attend to patients, doctors running from counter to rooms, but all Germany could see was Italy being taken away. He wanted to follow, he took a step to catch up to them, but before he could even take a breath, another nurse blocked him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Germany could roughly comprehend that she was talking to him. But it wasn't until a sharp SNAP of her fingers did Germany finally come back to his head.

"Eh! I need you to answer these sir. Otherwise I'll leave you out in the waiting room and you won't be able to go see him." With a defeated sigh, Germany took the clipboard from the nurse and begrudgingly sat down in an empty chair in the waiting room. He tried to answer the questions to the best of his ability, but Germany realised that there were a lot of things that Germany wasn't sure about. He didn't know how old Italy was (in human years), nor did he know anything about Italy's medical history. I mean, he should, shouldn't he? He's had to clean up and bandage Italy so many times, so why didn't he know if Italy had ever had a broken bone or the flu.

He ended up just saying no to everything he didn't know. After all, he wasn't a relative, so they couldn't expect him to know everything. Nor did they need to know that Germany wasn't a relative. Handing the nurse the clipboard, Germany quickly asked the nurse what room Italy was taken to and before she could blink Germany took off towards the room.

Emergency Room # 6

The door was closed. There wasn't a do not enter sign on the door, but Germany still felt an aura of 'you probably shouldn't enter' anyway. As the door un-clicked and slowly opened, Germany walked in the room. Laying on the bed, was Italy. He was awake, but very disoriented. There was a nurse next to him taking a blood sample, talking to Italy as she did so. She asked him about his brother, their home in Italy, if they had any pets: just trying to distract Italy from the needle. Miraculously, it seemed to be working. But then again, Italy's eyes were swimming around the room, so maybe he wasn't even aware of what the woman was saying.

Quickly looking up at Germany, the nurse finished the blood sample and went to go put the vials on the counter behind the emergency room bed. It was for both the sake of the doctors, nurses and patients that only the hospital workers saw the blood. At least half of the people who have blood drawn end up passing out from the sight of it sitting in a vial. But years of being on the battlefield had made Germany less receptive of the crimson fluid.

Dazedly, Italy looked up to Germany, not really seeing him but knowing he was there. He looked pitiful. Tears were brimming in his eyes and his jaw slightly shaking. He looked away from the German, embarrassed and annoyed at the same time.

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><p>This update is long overdue. I could apologise until the cows come home, but it wouldn't even be worth it. I will tell you guys that I am putting this story on Hiatus. During the last update, I was on the rocks about leaving the Hetalia fandom, but I've officially been gone for a few months now. You guys have every right in the world to hate me because I've been ignoring all the messages I've gotten. Honestly, it's no one's fault but my own and I never meant to offend or hurt anyone's feelings if you personally were upset by my rudeness.<p>

This is all that was written after the last update. It's about half of what the ideal length of this chapter was supposed to be, but I want you guys to at least be as up to date on this story as I am. And while this story is now on Hiatus, I won't call it 'dead' yet. I hope to have an inspirational streak and get more of the story done, but I don't know at the moment when or if that'll happen.

So I apologise again, because I know that while this is a little better than just getting a note, this isn't what most of you will want to hear.


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